


No Rest for the Wicked

by oystergrrl



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Daisysous, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Skye | Daisy Johnson Needs a Hug, Sousa's Blue Shirt, Timequake, dousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25704073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oystergrrl/pseuds/oystergrrl
Summary: “Come on, G-man,” she says, looping her arm through his. “Let’s get you some new clothes.”Sousa’s face twists like he’s just tasted something bad.“G-men are FBI,” he says, voice thick with disdain.“Whatever,” Daisy says, stopping in front of what appears to be a clothing store. “No rest for the wicked; time to join the ‘70s.”************************************************************************************************A collection of missing scenes from post-7.04 through post-7.10
Relationships: Skye | Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa
Comments: 9
Kudos: 150





	No Rest for the Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> The Canon Compliant tag is accurate through 7.10, but I'm sure 7.11 is going to come along and demolish the end of this, because it looks like it's going to be full throttle action, but that doesn't leave any room for shipping, so 🤷. Also, in this version, the group from Afterlife gets back to the Lighthouse basically right after Malick and Garrett take off with the Zephyr. 
> 
> I did go back and rewatch all the Dousy scenes to write this, but I didn't have time to do full episodes, and the chronology since Sousa showed up is... challenging, so if I've made any glaring errors, I apologize.

So. 1973. 

Awesome. 

“Well, what do we do now?” says Deke, arms flailing a bit, because, well, he’s Deke. 

“We’re going to need somewhere safe to lay low for a while,” Mack says. “I was looking through some records the other day, and from what I remember, the Lighthouse should be empty right now. Yo-Yo and I can take the quinjet and go do some recon.” Yo-Yo nods. 

“I think mine and Deke’s time would best be spent staying here and working some more on the time drive,” Simmons says. “Otherwise, who knows how long we’ll be jumping.”

“Sounds good,” says Coulson. “May and I can do our own recon and see if we can find out what the Chronicoms are up to in this time. Then we’ll head to the speakeasy to rendezvous with Enoch.” 

“Sweet,” Daisy says, and she turns toward Sousa. “That means I’ve got Dick Tracy here.”

“And what are we doing?” Sousa says suspiciously. 

“We,” says Daisy, “Are going shopping.” 

She has a spring in her step as they set out on the streets of New York, turning her face up to the sunshine and drinking in the sounds of the city - music pouring out of windows and doorways, trucks rattling down the street, some kids jumping double dutch down the block. It’s still not home, but it’s closer. She’ll take it. 

“Explain to me again,” Sousa says, breaking her out of her reverie. “Why we are doing this, instead of something that is in any way relevant or useful.”

“First rule of time travel,” Daisy says.”You have to look the part.”

“That’s the first rule?”

“Those gladrags from the ‘50s aren’t going to cut it here,” she continues as if he hasn’t spoken. “We need something different.”

“You already changed,” he points out, and Daisy looks down at her plain green top and black pants. 

“This isn’t going to work, either,” she says. “We need something with a little more… flair.”

“Flair,” he repeats flatly. “On a covert op.”

“The goal is to blend in,” she says. “If we look too, I don’t know, stodgy, we’ll attract attention.” She’s already noticed a few curious glances turned their way. 

“I think you look fine just the way you are,” he grumbles, and, surprised, Daisy cuts him a sideways glance. 

Is he… is he trying to flirt with her?

“That’s very sweet,” she says, keeping her voice even. “But I wouldn’t say you’re exactly an expert in this department.”

He sighs deeply. 

“Alright,” he says. “I guess we don’t want to walk around looking like a couple of mooks.”

Daisy stops in her tracks and stares at him. 

“Did you just say ‘mooks’?”

He looks back at her, defensive. 

“Yes?”

She shakes her head. 

“Come on, G-man,” she says, looping her arm through his. “Let’s get you some new clothes.”

Sousa’s face twists like he’s just tasted something bad. 

“G-men are FBI,” he says, voice thick with disdain. 

“Whatever,” Daisy says, stopping in front of what appears to be a clothing store. “No rest for the wicked; time to join the ‘70s.”

*************************************************************************************************************

It’s all something of a blur after they haul her off Malick’s table. Her entire reality is a haze of pain, and all she wants to do - so, so badly - is go to sleep. But she can’t. Because there’s Sousa’s voice in her ear and Sousa’s hand in her hair, and they keep her tethered to the waking world, whether she likes it or not. 

_We are going home, Agent Johnson._

She’s pretty sure she loses time in there somewhere, but at some point, the manacles on her hands and feet are gone, and she can feel strong arms - Sousa’s arms - lifting her, buoying her up. She leans her head against his chest and closes her eyes, pressing down the nausea that the movement, however welcome, stirs up inside her. She thinks she might hear Malick say something, and there is a shaking that is not her own, and then they are outside. She has to turn her face further into his shoulder to blot out the harsh light, but they’re free, and he has her, and it feels like deliverance. 

The light shifts again, and she hears familiar voices yelling; just by the scents in the air and the sounds of Sousa’s feet on the metal floor, she can tell they’re on the Zephyr. Sousa lays her down on something hard, and she manages to open her eyes just a little to see Simmons rushing to prep a syringe. Then she feels a prick in her forearm, and the blessed darkness takes her. 

When she rises out of the depths of unconsciousness for the first time, everything feels fuzzy, which is at least preferable to debilitating agony. She vaguely registers that she’s clean and that her wounds have been bandaged; there’s something shiny above her, metal and glass. She hears voices, but they seem far away, and she’s having a hard time making out what they’re saying. They sound like… Simmons, maybe, and… Sousa?

She opens her mouth, trying to let them know that she’s awake, but she can’t make any words come out. There’s some movement that she can’t see, and then the Simmons-voice says, “Don’t push yourself, Daisy. You’re healing, but it will take time.”

She just manages to feel irritated about this before she slips back under. 

The second time, she is far more lucid. She snaps awake and panics, briefly, to find herself in such a confined space, but then she realizes where she is. Experimentally, she flexes her hands and feet - a little stiff, and the gash on her hand from the glass pulls, but it feels manageable. With a groan, she tries to move up onto her elbows, startling a little when she hears a hissing sound, and then the canopy slides upward. 

Daniel is smiling down at her. 

(She realizes she can’t think of him as just “Sousa” anymore - not after the barn.)

“Hey,” he says, reaching forward to help her sit up. “How are you feeling?”

“Not 100%, but definitely better,” she says, easing her legs over the side of the table. She blinks up at him, her eyes still a little unfocused. “How did you know how to open that?”

“Simmons showed me,” he says. “She also said you might need this”. He opens a small fridge under the counter, pulling out a bottle of electrolyte water. He twists off the cap and hands it to her.

“Thanks, Sousa,” she says, because, barn or no, she is a professional. 

He drags a chair over to the pod and sits down, seemingly content to just watch her drink her water. It should be creepy, but honestly, it’s not, and that’s its own version of unsettling to her.

“So, what have I missed?” she says, just to break the silence. 

“Well, the team managed to blow up whatever it was the Chronicoms were trying to launch - something called Project Insight?” he shrugs. “Oh, and we got Deke and Mack back.”

“Back?” Daisy says, staring at him. “Did we lose them?!”

“They’re fine now,” he rushes to assure her. “It’s a long story; I’m sure someone can fill you in later.”

They lapse into silence again, and Daisy suddenly realizes how intimate all of this feels. It’s just the two of them in the small, dimly lit space, and there’s a weight in the air, of a terrible experience shared and survived. There is no doubt in her mind that she would have died on that filthy barn floor if it hadn’t been for him. It’s a huge debt to owe, but she can already tell he doesn’t see it as one. The comfort and help that he gave her came entirely naturally, and she’s more than grateful. She feels… connected to him somehow, as more than just a fellow agent. 

Also, she keeps getting distracted by the way his muscles shift underneath that blue shirt, and _why is she noticing that, she does not need to notice that…_

He doesn’t help matters any by leaning forward, knees on elbows, and saying in a low voice, “Can I ask you what might sound like a strange question?”

Her stomach clenches in apprehension, because he’s going to want to talk about it, isn’t he - this _thing_ between them? He’s such an upright, straightforward kind of guy that he wouldn’t want it out there hanging over them, while she is absolutely fine with letting it sit there and be weird until she has time to think about it properly. But she doesn’t know how to address that without making things more even more awkward, so..

“Sure,” she says, bracing herself. 

“Why does Deke keep calling Simmons ‘Nana’?” 

It’s so entirely not what she’s expecting that she bursts out laughing. Hard. 

Daniel straightens in his chair, looking both mortified and annoyed. 

“Well, I’m glad I amuse you,” he says. 

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she gasps, taking in gulps of air and pressing a hand to a spot in her back that is not responding well to her giggle fit. 

“I just thought… I don’t know, that maybe it was some 21st century… team… thing.”

“No, no,” she says, finally beginning to regain her composure. “Nothing like that. It’s because Simmons is actually his grandmother.” 

He stares at her for a long moment, like he’s trying to decide if she’s screwing with him, then flicks a glance in the general direction of the scientists’ workspace.

“But they’re the same age,” he says slowly, and she has the ridiculous impulse to pat his hand.

“These hops aren’t our first go-round with time travel,” she replies. “You’re from our past; Deke is from our future, when the Earth was kind of... broken."

Daniel sits back, a look of comprehension on his face.

“So that explains…” he says, his eyes losing focus like he’s remembering something.

“What?” says Daisy, sipping her water. 

“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head, and his attention shifts back to her. “It really is good to see you up and talking.”

Something stirs in her memory, just a glimmer that she’s not entirely sure she didn’t imagine. 

“Were you here before?” she asks him. “When I woke up?”

“Yeah,” he says. “You weren’t with us very long, that time.”

She cocks her head, considering him. 

“Have you really been in here this whole time?”

“Off and on, yes,” he says. 

And there it is again. How is she supposed to feel about that? What is she supposed to say? She simply can not get her head around what it is he expects her to do here, and it’s really starting to bother her. 

But then it turns out that she doesn’t have to worry about it much longer, because suddenly the room begins to sway around her, and she has to close her eyes and grip the edge of the table with her free hand to steady herself. 

“And there it is,” says Daniel, standing. “Time for you to lay back down.”

“OK, Mr. Bossy,” she mutters as he takes the water bottle from her, but she has to admit that laying down again does sound like a very good idea. 

He helps her lift her legs back up onto the table and get situated. She can feel herself already starting to slip away, but just before she does, she hears his voice one last time. 

“By the way,” he says. “You can call me Daniel.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” she replies, and then the canopy comes down around her, and she’s gone.

*************************************************************************************************************

After Mack and Deke come to collect Enoch, Daisy wanders down to the loading dock and folds herself into one of the jump seats. 

To say the mood on the Zephyr is subdued would be an understatement; everyone is feeling Enoch’s loss keenly. Coulson had gone off somewhere by himself, afterwards; she’s not entirely sure where. He’s not normally one to brood, but he’s clearly going through something, so she decides to leave him be. She has convinced herself that she herself is not brooding because rather than hiding out in a dark corner somewhere, she is in a semi-public space where someone could come by at any time. 

Which someone does. 

“Hey,” Daniel says as he settles into the seat next to hers.

“Hey,” she says back, not looking at him. 

“So,” he says. “Simmons told me something about some time loops? It didn’t sound great, but I only understood about half of it.” He leans forward, examining his hands. ”What Enoch did, though, and what you and Coulson did for him…” His voice trails off. 

Daisy finally looks at him. 

“What?”

“That kind of thing, it’s hard on a person all by itself.”

She studies his profile until he turns and looks at her, his face open and sad; this is something he knows about from experience. Her emotions are a complete jumble, and she’s tempted to reach out and comfort _him_ , but something stops her. 

“Why are you here, Sousa?” she says. There’s no anger in her voice, because she’s not angry She’s just tired, and a part of her wants to hear him say something along the lines of what he said to her in the time loop, while another part wants him to say something totally generic and boring before she gets herself into this too deep. 

“You didn’t want Enoch to be alone,” he says. “You shouldn’t have to be alone either.”

It isn’t fair. It would be so, so easy to just fall into him and let him hold her up the way he clearly wants to. The urge to do it is so strong when she thinks of the way he kept her going when she was at her absolute lowest in the barn (not to mention the way he leaned into her kiss like it was something he’d been thinking about for a long time). But she also remembers how it felt to see him slump to the ground with the scanner still in his hand, blood running down his chin. And she remembers the sickening lurch of realization that Ward wasn’t who she thought he was. The terrible ache of hearing Lincoln move further and further away from her. Enoch’s even voice telling her she was, in fact, going to end up alone, again, after all they’d been through. 

She can’t do it. She just can’t. 

“I’m fine,” she says, standing up. “I mean, I’m still here, right? So I could definitely be worse.”

“Daisy,” he says, getting to his feet and moving towards her, but she puts a hand out to stop him. 

“Seriously,” she says. “You don’t need to worry-”

“But I-”

“I don’t need this,” she snaps, and Daniel takes a step back. She takes a breath and continues. “I don’t need you right now.”

The stoic mask he wears so often has slipped back into place; she hadn’t noticed how little she’d seen it in the time loops until now. It makes something in her chest twist, but she doesn’t take any steps to smooth things over. It’s better to set a precedent. 

“OK,” he says, swallowing. “Will you at least try to get some rest?”

She nods, crossing her arms over her chest. With a last look at her, he walks back into the interior of the plane, and after a few seconds, she follows. 

She does go to her bunk, mostly so she doesn’t have to risk running into him again. But instead of getting any sleep, she ends up sitting on the floor next to her bed with a rubber Deke Squad ball that she’d found lying around somewhere. She bounces it in a circuit from the door to the floor to her hand, over and over, as she alternately replays each conversation in her head - the one with Enoch and the one with Daniel. She knows that she’s just torturing herself, but she can’t stop. 

She stays like that until they get to the Lighthouse. 

*************************************************************************************************************

She’s not entirely sure how long she sits with Jiaying’s body - could be a few minutes, could be hours. It’s impossible to tell because her awareness has shrunk down to the weight of her mother’s head in her lap, and it is completely, heartbreakingly still. She hasn’t cried, and distantly, she realizes she must be in shock, but she can’t bring herself to care. 

At some point, she becomes aware of Mack and Yo-Yo walking slowly towards her down the hall. When they reach her, Yo-Yo sits down and wraps her arms around Daisy’s shoulders, learning her head against Daisy’s temple; she murmurs something that sounds like a prayer in Spanish. Mack stays on his feet, but Daisy can feel the love and concern coming from him as well. 

He gets it. He’s lost his parents, too. 

How did they all end up having to face so much death?

They’re all quiet for a long time, Daisy drawing strength from the others’ presence, but finally, Mack says softly, “Tremors, we need to move her.”

Wordlessly, Daisy shakes her head, breaking Yo-Yo’s hold on her. Mack crouches down so she can see his face. 

“Daisy,” he says, his voice still so gentle, “We’ll take good care of her. You know we will.”

And she does - of course she does. So she takes a deep breath and nods, letting them help her to her feet. Mack stays with Jiaying while Yo-Yo walks with her back to the sleeping quarters; when they get there, Daisy realizes she doesn’t even know which bunk is supposed to be hers. They end up having to look in all the different rooms until they find the one where Daniel left her bag, and she can’t decide if this is hilarious or depressing. Frankly, she doesn’t have the energy to think about it very much. 

Yo-Yo finds a first aid kit in the closet and has Daisy sit in the desk chair so she can clean the cuts on Daisy’s face. When she’s done, she closes the kit, sets it on the desk, and looks around the room.

“Want some company?” she says. “I can help you unpack.” Which is kind of laughable, because it would take all of 2 minutes, maybe, to put her few belongings away, but Daisy appreciates the gesture. Still, she shakes her head.

“No,” she says, voice barely more than a whisper. “I think I just want to rest.”

Yo-Yo squeezes her shoulder, brow furrowed in worry. “OK. But call us if you need us, alright?”

Daisy nods, and Yo-Yo slips out, closing the door behind her. As soon as she’s gone, Daisy climbs onto the bed, not even bothering to take off her boots or jacket, and curls into a ball. 

She drifts off a couple of times, but it’s fitful sleep at best and does nothing to alleviate her exhaustion. Mostly, she just blanks out and watches the stripes of sun from the window move across the wall, so that she doesn’t have to dwell on any of the other horrors she knows are going to be there waiting for her. When the light is almost gone, there is a knock at the door. She ignores it, but then whoever it is knocks again, and she decides she doesn’t want to scare the others, so she gets up and answers it. 

It’s Coulson, holding a tray of food. 

“Thought you might want some dinner,” he says. She doesn’t, particularly, but she moves back so he can come into the room. 

He sets the tray on the tiny desk against the wall, then sits down on the foot of the bed. 

“There are some things you need to know,” he says. She sits down on the bed as well, back against the wall and knees pulled up to her chest. 

He tells her that Malick and Garret have taken the Zephyr along with Simmons and Deke. He says the others are working out a rescue plan, but without the scientists and their main mode of transportation, it’s going to take time. And he tells her about her sister. 

“She’s here,” he says. “We brought her out of Afterlife with the others. We have her sedated until we decide what to do. We thought you’d want to talk to her, once we figure out how to do it safely.”

Daisy just nods, staring at a spot on the wall. 

Coulson is quiet for a moment, considering her. 

“Sousa has been asking about you,” he says. “We told him you needed some space for a while.”

She nods again, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest at Daniel’s name. 

“Unless…” Coulson says, leaving the thought unfinished, but she knows what he’s getting at. He remembers the time loops, too, even if he wasn’t around for everything. 

“No,” she says, her voice rough. “No, space is good.”

Coulson gives her a look like he doesn’t quite believe her, but he doesn’t argue. He gets to his feet and crosses to the door, stopping for a moment at the threshold. 

“Try to eat at least a little something, huh?” he says, and then he is gone. 

She does eat, but only enough to quiet the growling in her stomach. After that, she can’t take the smell, so she sets the tray on the floor outside her door, hoping that someone won’t mind taking it away for her. She decides to change and shucks off her old clothes in favor of her softest pajamas from her bag. She feels exposed without all her denim and leather, vulnerable, which means that her outsides now match her insides.

She slips underneath the thin blanket and tries to close her eyes, but images from the day - from the last several days, really - scroll relentlessly through her mind; sleep, it seems, is not in her immediate future. She flops on her back with a sigh and stares at the ceiling. She’s gotten to the point where, when a mission goes south, she can usually take it in stride. It’s a rough world, the one they live in, and she's learned that all she can do is what’s best for her people, even if that ends up not being enough. This time, though, it feels different; she feels weary in a way she hasn’t in a long time. She can’t even remember the last time they had a real win. Is this all she has to look forward to, forever?

She thinks of that last conversation with Enoch again - not the part she’s been dwelling on, about the team splitting up, but the way they talked about being part of the cycle. The coming and going of all living things. It’s the nature of life, she knows that, can even see the beauty of it. But at times like this, her heart just can’t get on board with what’s in her head. She wants to grab all of her team members and hold them tight, and she also wants to duck out under cover of darkness so that she can get ahead of the pain. She’d done it before, after Lincoln, and it hadn’t stuck, but maybe this time… 

She presses her palms to her eyes and watches the sparks of color pop behind her lids. It’s pointless, running away with speculation like that. She knows she’s not going anywhere. She’s going to see this through to the end; she _has_ to see this through to the end. The part of her that is Coulson and May and Mack and FitzSimmons and Yo-Yo and even Deke won’t let her. They’ve made her into someone she actually kind of likes, and she won’t abandon them. But she can’t quite handle seeing them right now, either. 

There is one person, though, who she might be ready to see. 

It’s not terribly late, but when she opens her door, the hall is quiet. The tray of food she left on the floor is gone, which she will need to thank somebody for later. She has a brief moment of hesitation as she steps in front of the door next to hers (where she’d noticed Daniel’s bag earlier, even if that choice was too much to process in the moment); she’d been kind of awful to him when he’d tried to comfort her on the Zephyr. But he had been the one to seek her out at the Lighthouse, the one to stand beside her during one of the hardest conversations she’d ever had. It gives her the courage to knock on the door. 

A long moment later, Daniel answers, sleep-rumpled and blinking in the light from the hallway. 

“Hey,” he says, surprised, but seemingly pleased.

“Can I come in?” she says, barrelling through so she doesn’t lose her nerve. 

“Of course,” he replies and opens the door wider so she can come inside. 

She sits on his bed, looking around the room, which is just as bare and industrial as hers. It isn’t until she notices the prosthetic propped against the wall near the bed that she realizes he is moving around on one leg. Glancing over, she sees him using the door, the desk, and the bedframe as handholds to expertly shift his weight around as he maneuvers himself to sit next to her on the bed.

“So,” he says once he’s settled. “What can I do for you?”

Now that she’s actually here, she finds that she doesn’t know what to say, and she casts around in her mind for a topic, some bit of small talk to keep the silence from getting too uncomfortable. Instead, to her complete horror, she begins to sob. 

Without hesitation, Daniel reaches out and pulls her into his chest, whispering soothing things against her hair. 

“Shhhhh,” he says. “It’s OK. You’re OK.”

Abruptly, Daisy pushes away and stands, pacing as much as she can in the tiny room.

“OK?’ she says. “ _OK_ ? Nothing about this is OK! Simmons and Deke are God knows where with a couple of superpowered psychopaths. I apparently have a sister now, who is here, and drugged out of her mind, because she’s, you know, homicidal. She doesn’t know that our mother is dead yet, and I have no idea what I’m going to say to her when she wakes up. And, oh yeah, I might cease to exist at any second because _my mother_ is _dead_ . _Again_.”

Her crying had abated a bit while she ranted, but now it’s back in full force. Daniel takes her wrist and gently tugs her back to the bed. She sits down hard, finally giving way to all the hurt that is pouring out of her. And Daniel lets her, one hand moving in circles on her back to let her know he’s there. 

“You want to know the worst thing?” she says eventually, and he doesn’t respond, but the look on his face encourages her to continue. 

“You were right,” she says. “I got to see what she was like before, what she might have been like if I had gotten to her sooner. And she was wonderful. I’m so glad I got that chance.” Another sob builds in her chest, choking her next words. “She died protecting me, and I’m _glad_.”

“You listen to me,” Daniel says, taking both of her hands in his and leaning forward to look her in the eye. “None of this is your fault. There is only one person who is responsible, and that is Nathanial Malick. Don’t absolve him of any guilt by taking it on yourself.”

“But-”

“No buts,” Daniel says firmly. 

She pulls a hand free and wipes at the tears on her cheeks, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“Look,” he says with a sigh. “I know I wasn’t there. But my gut tells me that no one made Jiaying do anything she didn’t choose to do. She wanted to protect you. She wanted to be your mother.”

She chances a look at him and is nearly overwhelmed by the complete sincerity on his face. He is not just saying this to make her feel better; he truly believes it. 

“Thank you, Daniel” she says quietly, with only a small hitch in her voice. 

He smiles at her softly. 

“I’ve been waiting to hear you call me that.”

She looks away again, suddenly self-conscious. 

“I really didn’t mean to come in here and fall apart all over you like this,” she says. 

Daniel reaches up and pushes the hair away from her hot, tear-stained face. 

“Hey,” he says. “That’s what I’m here for.”

He’s so kind, just so unfailingly good. It makes her heart ache and race and feel warm all at the same time. And he’s looking at her like she’s something precious - the way that he always looks at her. It’s almost too much. 

“We kissed,” she blurts. 

Daniel draws back a bit in surprise. 

“We… what?”

“In one of the time loops,” she says. “We kissed. It was nice.”

She watches a handful of emotions play over his face before he settles on curiosity. 

“Did I kiss you or did you kiss me?”

“I kissed you,” she says. “And then you kissed me back.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. 

“Well, it’s good to know I’m not a complete idiot, even if I need a little guidance.”

Daisy laughs, a sound still wet with her tears. 

“This is not even remotely the time,” he says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “But I’d be up for trying that again. If you’re open to it.”

“Yeah,” she says. “I’d like that.”

Now that the surge of emotion has passed, she feels drained, and her eyes are suddenly very heavy. She stifles a yawn, feeling almost shy about what she wants to ask next. 

“For the time being, can I stay here? Just to sleep?”

“Of course,” he says again, the way she is beginning to believe he always will. 

As he gets up to turn off the light, Daisy lays down on the bed, facing the wall. When he comes back, he tucks himself in behind her, draping an arm over her waist. She feels warm and safe and like, just maybe, they’ll get through this. 

And she rests. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
